


in the forest of the night

by sizhu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 04:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14097720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sizhu/pseuds/sizhu
Summary: Viktor is absolutely convinced the forest lining his backyard like a fence is sentient. He doesn't think he's going crazy. Or at least, not until he stumbles head first through the bramble brush in pursuit of Makkachin--and meets something he never thought he would.Or, someone.





	in the forest of the night

**Author's Note:**

> YEP. I'M CLICHE W/ TITLES lmao 
> 
> anyway, this was fun to write, and @[flintyfarts](http://flintyfarts.tumblr.com/) was a pleasure to work with and her [art](http://flintyfarts.tumblr.com/post/172255806607/art-for-a-mini-bang-collab-i-did-w-sizhu-for-her) is just?!?!!

The wooded area behind Viktor’s house did not look at all like a time honored, idyllic forest. Nothing at all like a place to explore, or have a quaint summer picnic in a hidden clearing. In fact, if Viktor had to, he’d describe it as a classic Gothic horror backdrop. No light cut through the tree-line. A thick coil of bramble strangled the base of the trees, an organic barbed-wire fence daring anyone to pass through the trees.

 _Trespassers will be strangled and shredded to pieces,_ the brambles seemed to say. Viktor was inclined to believe them.

Strangely enough, the brambles never encroached into his yard, as if they didn’t mind Viktor living there, so long as he stayed on his side of the ‘fence’. Otherwise, they maintained a relatively peaceful coexistence. Even though Viktor was pretty sure he was going insane, thinking the bramble to be a sentient, if crotchety, neighbor. Definitely crazy, as he wasn’t even _questioning_ it anymore. He’d accepted the strangeness, accepted that a fence-like bramble patch was his permanent neighbor. And he accepted that he wasn’t going to test the boundaries and find out of the bramble really _would_ tear him to pieces for trespassing. Viktor sighed. Such was his life now.

He sat at his kitchen bar, nursing a cup of coffee. The expansive window above the counter and sink gave him a stunning view of his backyard. Even if that view included his Gothic Forest Neighbor. The yard was a beautiful paradise green, healthy grass running from the bramble fence to the edge of his patio. A garden would look good, he thought. Too bad he didn’t have much of a green thumb. He’d had a succulent once. They were supposed to be easy. It—was decidedly not. With yet another sigh, Viktor sipped at the dregs of his coffee, watching his dog roam the grass. He’d hit the point of just loose grounds swirling in bitter water that had gone cold while he’d been contemplating succulents. The tree-line commanded more of his attention. Creepy woods and an idyllic-but-empty yard. He really should do something about it. Something—anything—to break up the empty space that even Makkachin’s dog house couldn’t fill.

Makkachin was snuffing about the yard. She was pointedly ignoring her luxury dog house—it wasn’t as important as whatever smells in the grass she could pick up. The brambles didn’t bother her.

* * *

 

Two weeks and a fancy birdbath later, Viktor thought he’d found the solution to his empty yard. It was a stunning sculpture cut from quality marble. It served as a piece of art, a water fountain, and a birdbath all in one. Regal animals normally found on coats of arms and family crests were cut into the marble. A stately lion, a rearing griffon, and a proud dragon all supported the bowl of the fountain while a unicorn danced on a small dais from which the water poured.

Viktor _loved_ it. And it seemed the birds did, too, which had been the entire point. Viktor counted that as a win, watching birds flit to and from the bath as they chased each other off. A smile tugged at Viktor’s lips before he settled more comfortably on his outdoor sofa. A perfect day to recline out on the patio and get some work done. Or, _pretend_ to get work done. Because life was like that. Not that the birds or Makkachin would judge him. Though he suspected that his forest-neighbor might be. Harshly.

Makka wasn’t judging him now—she had continued her snuffling from two weeks ago, this time around the area of the birdbath, finally allowed near the sculpture. The birds largely ignored her.

A breeze brushed by, rustling the trees. The bramble remained unmoved. The rustle caught Makkachin’s attention and she perked up, looking toward the woods. Viktor furrowed his brows. It was just the wind—what could she have heard? And then—

A shadow flit through the trees. Viktor wasn’t quite sure how he’d seen it, as the trees were a bastion against any light. But he did. And Makkachin had seen it, too. She bolted toward the bramble fence, barking. Eyes widening and heart hammering in his chest, Viktor scrambled off the outdoor sofa and chased after his dog, hoping against hope to catch her before she hit the brambles. He almost reached her, but she cleared the brambles easily. In fact, they slid aside, creating an opening for her. Viktor, in his bewilderment, crashed through and stumbled into the woods, landing clean on his face. Makkachin sat beside him, her tail thumping on the forest floor and her tongue lolling out. Viktor swore she was judging him. Of course, wasn’t that what pets were for? Unconditional love and extreme judgment?

After a moment of staring at each other, with Makkachin looking particularly smug, she stood and turned away from him, trotting along through the woods like she knew where she was going. She might have, too, if she was still following the flit of a shadow they’d both seen. Viktor swore and pushed himself up and forward, surging after his wayward dog. Makkachin didn’t seem at all bothered by the trees around them, not big enough to have to worry about an errant branch and graceful enough to practically dance over knolls and roots. Viktor, however, apparently lacked such luck and grace. The trees definitely, without any uncertainty, did not like Viktor.

Perhaps it had something to do with his stumble into the woods in the first place. The brambles had been closing when Makkachin cleared them. The woods truly didn’t want him in their business. It was just another confirmation of his theory that the woods were sentient. The plant life kept assaulting him as he chased Makkachin. Eventually it all gave way as he tripped over a root that he swore wasn’t there before, and he careened through a thicket and landed, once again, face first in the dirt. Or—grass this time, thankfully. The landing was much soft. Though he was sure his clothing would have grass stains. Makkachin barks at him. She’s once again sitting in front of him, tail thumping the ground with her tongue lolling.

He doesn’t see her, though.

Beyond her, in the center of the clearing, is—

Viktor isn’t sure.

It’s lying on its side with its head tucked into itself, its whip-like tail draped around its own body. A body the color of gold champagne with black hair—no, a _mane_. It had some kind of protrusion from its head, though it was the only thing aside from ears that Viktor could see through the ink hair and the creature’s curled up position. The creature hadn’t seemed to notice them, or if it had, it was studiously ignoring them.

Viktor thought it might be sleeping, if not for the noise he and Makkachin had made. And then Makkachin had padded her way over to its still form, nosing at it. She disappeared around the creature’s other side, getting more persistent in her prodding. The creature still didn’t move. Makkachin lifted her head and barked at Viktor. His heart stopped and ice crept through his veins. She had blood on her muzzle.

The creature was hurt. And there was no way he could carry it back to his yard—and with the sentience of the forest, he’s not sure he’d be allowed to. Taking a deep breath, Viktor moved his way toward the animal slowly—even though it had been unresponsive to Makkachin’s prodding, the forest was on high alert, waiting to see what he would do and ready to protect if necessary. Viktor tried to show his good intention, willed the trees to understand he only wanted to help. But even if the woods were alive and intelligent, they couldn’t possibly be telepathic—could they?

Wary, Viktor inched closer to the animal while he pulled off his shirt. As he got closer, he realized the animal in the clearing was—a horse? No, not a horse. It had a horn, Viktor had seen it before he’d gotten close. The knowledge that he was the neighbor of a _unicorn’s_ forest hit him like a punch in the gut. No wonder the forest was so hostile. Viktor shook his head and started tearing the fabric. Once close enough, he sank to his knees and started cleaning the injury as best he could. The unicorn didn’t move; it didn’t even acknowledge him. Viktor only hoped he wasn’t too late. Distracted, his finger caught on a sliver of wood and he hissed.

“That’s gonna be a splin—” Viktor cut himself off, getting a closer look at the protrusion. It took another minute for him to realize it wasn’t natural. Almost all of the shaft had been broken off, so it was almost impossible to see. An arrowhead, made of iron, was embedded in the animal’s body. Someone hadn’t wanted it to get far. Viktor bit his lip, brows knit in worry. “I’m sorry, darling, but this is going to hurt.”

The animal, predictably, did not respond. Viktor clenched his jaw and dug his fingers into the wound. This time, the animal jerked and flailed, tossing its head. Viktor barely managed to avoid being skewered by its horn. Makkachin leapt away with a startled bark. Once Viktor wasn’t going to be skewered, he ran his free hand over the unicorn’s neck, soothing him as best he could while digging the iron arrowhead out. He threw it aside, watching the forest take it with vehemence. Then, he pressed his shirt into the unicorn’s side, staunching the blood. He wasn’t sure if he could make a proper bandage, but if he could stop the bleeding… Thankfully, the unicorn had stopped thrashing under him. It was watching him with suspicious eyes, far too intelligent to be _just_ an animal.

Makkachin paced back and forth behind him as he pressed his blood-soaked shirt against the animal’s flank. She whined, but Viktor paid her no mind. And then, like magic (which is silly, because a unicorn _is_ magic), the animal glowed dimly, becoming engulfed in the gray light. It began to shrink and shrink and shrink, until the once gigantic equine animal was a slim and very, _very_ naked human. The only indications that the person was the unicorn were his opalite horn, whip-cord tail, and the liquid ink of his mane—er, hair. The unicorn—the man—was beautiful. Viktor tried to give him a smile, but he was tired. His arms burned from the effort he used to keep the unicorn still, he was covered in blood, and his hair was plastered to his head from sweat.

“Hi,” he said lamely. “I’m Viktor.”

The human-unicorn stared at him, his suspicion giving way to bewilderment. He snapped his tail against the ground in agitation. His silence was… Unnerving. Viktor wasn’t sure if he could speak. But—

“Can you understand me?” he asked. He grinned when the man nodded. “Okay. Can I touch you?”

A shake of the head.

“Ah… Okay, but,” Viktor paused, looking around the clearing. “I can’t treat your wound like this. And you have no clothes.”

“I can walk.”

Oh—he _could_ speak. Viktor frowned. “I just dug an arrowhead out of your side. You probably shouldn’t be walking… Ah—do you have a name?”

“Of course I do.” The man sniffed, turning his head. His horn caught the light and sparkled. Viktor swallowed thickly, and when the man turned his gaze back on Viktor, his heart stuttered. “…You did save my life.”

“Wouldn’t anyone?”

The man cut him a dry look before gesturing to his side. Thankfully, Viktor’s efforts seemed to work, since he wasn’t bleeding out. They really should get it cleaned and wrapped, though.

“Ah—right, sorry.” Viktor rubbed the back of his neck with a bloody hand.

“Yuuri.”

“What?” Viktor blinked at him.

“My name.” The unicorn—man—tilted his head. “In exchange for my life.”

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathed, feeling like he’d just been given the answers to the universe. “You don’t owe me any—”

“It’s a fair trade.” Yuuri shook his head.

“I—well, if you say so…” Viktor blinked. “So, Yuuri, can I help you up? You don’t have to come all the way, but—”

Yuuri studied Viktor, considering him. Viktor swallowed, having never been under such intense scrutiny before. And, he could hardly forget that Yuuri was _very_ naked. Eventually, Makkachin broke the silence, barking and pacing around the two of them, tail wagging so hard it shook her whole butt. Yuuri blinked and looked away from Viktor to look at Makkachin. He tilted his head, watching her. His lips twitched when she barked again.

“…Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“You—you will?”

* * *

 

“I don’t think I like pants,” Yuuri said, sitting in a chair while Viktor threaded a needle. He held a cloth to his side while Viktor worked.

“Do not.” _Take them off_.

Yuuri laughed. He ran the fingers of his free hand through Makkachin’s fur.

“What—happened out there?” Viktor asked between gnawing a hole in his own lip. “This is going to hurt.”

“You’ve said that today. They won’t hurt any worse than being shot. And then having the arrow dug out.” Yuuri sat there, watching Viktor with the needle and thread. His side probably wouldn’t have needed the stitching if Viktor hadn’t had to dig. Still, he barely flinched. “…The arrow was the worst. It was made of iron.”

“I thought that only worked on the fae?” Viktor glanced up at Yuuri before poking his skin and very carefully stitching it back together. Yuuri didn’t even flinch.

“Not just.” Yuuri shrugged—and promptly winced.

“I’m still sewing, Yuuri!” Viktor made a distressed noise in the back of his throat. Yuuri muttered an apology before focusing on Makkachin. She seemed to be the reason he was so calm in his house—and outside of the woods, for that matter. “But you haven’t told me what happened.”

“If you’re looking for some long, tragic back story, you’ll be disappointed,” Yuuri said, blinking his attention back to Viktor. His matter-of-fact way of dealing with the situation was something to be admired. “I’m a unicorn, I’m made of magic, and humans want it. Or fear it. Often both. So, I, a thing of magic, am often a target of poachers. Who want it. Or are working for someone who does.”

“That’s…”

“Life.” Yuuri frowned. “Are you done yet? It’s itchy.”

“Don’t you _dare_.” Viktor narrowed his eyes at Yuuri, tying off the stitches and swatting Yuuri’s hand away as the he tried to poke at them. “Leave them be.”

Makkachin barked her piece—it made Yuuri smile, and Viktor swore he stopped breathing. She must have said something to him—not that Viktor had any hopes of understanding.

“Or you’ll put a cone on me?” Yuuri arched his eyebrows high, eyes alight with amusement. He grinned as Makkachin barked again. This time she sounded indignant.

“Sadly, that wouldn’t work on you.” Viktor snorted. “Opposable thumbs, and all that. Let me wipe it clean and we’ll wrap it up. You probably shouldn’t move around a lot.”

“If your dog says I’m safe here, I trust her judgment.” Yuuri tilted his head. “So I’ll stay, at least while I’m healing.”

“Oh, thank god.” Viktor breathed, slumping in his chair.

“Afraid I’d up and leave?” Yuuri asked, laughing.

It didn’t take much longer for Viktor to get Yuuri completely bandaged and dressed. Now, he leaned against his kitchen counter, watching Yuuri move, slow and careful, to the living room and settle down. Makkachin settled at his feet, aware that she might accidentally agitate Yuuri’s injury. After a moment, Viktor took a breath and joined them, settling on the sofa near Yuuri, but not too close. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’ll heal.” Yuuri hummed. He closed his eyes, falling silent for several, terrible long moments. When he opened them again, he tilted his head toward Viktor. His horn glimmered in the dim light of the room. “Thank you, Viktor. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Viktor swallowed the lump in his throat. Since when was the room so warm?

“A-anytime, Yuuri.”

Makkachin barked, and Yuuri laughed again. Viktor, wisely, did not ask.


End file.
